It feels weird to knock on Amos’ door… I have a key—another thing that was probably way too early in our relationship to do based on other peoples’ standards but feels perfect for us. Amos opens the door a moment later with a confused expression. Probably wondering why I didn’t just let myself in.
“Did you forget your key?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t know if you would want your parents to know that we are basically living at each other’s houses and that we exchanged keys. That’s a big step…”
Amos pulls me into his arms and gives me the kiss to end all kisses. “Love, I want the world to know that we are at the almost living together stage.”
“I-” I have no idea what I was about to say when his mom comes to the door and slaps Amos’ arm and tells him to let me inside.
Trudy pulls me inside and gives me a tight squeeze. “So glad you could make it. I made pancakes.”
I give her a happy smile as Amos puts his hand on my lower back and leads me to the table. Alan is already there, eating his pancakes with a big glass of orange juice.
“Good morning, Alan,” I say with a smile.
The whole feeling in the room turns darker, and I have to wonder if he’s having a bad day, and I shouldn’t greet him in case seeing a new face will confuse him.
“Margo! I’m so happy to see you. Amos sure did marry a pretty one, don’t you think, Tru?”
I blink at Alan and open my mouth to respond, but Amos steps in before I can say anything. “I’m a lucky man, that’s for sure.”
I look back at Amos, and he’s got a troubled but determined look on his face. Obviously, Alan is having a bad day and is confused. I’m not sure why no one isn’t correcting him, but I don’t want to be the one to upset him, so I choose to not say anything either.
“Sit, sit! Let’s eat,” he says boisterously, having no idea the bomb of a mess he just dropped.
Except… some part of me is thrilled at the thought of being married to Amos. Did I say zero to a hundred? Make that zero to a thousand. I’m not upset about the idea of being married. I’m upset because Alan is such a sweetheart, and is this is evidence of how bad his dementia is getting. I feel horrible for Trudy and Amos… Alan too. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a loved one in this way, nor can I imagine the frustration of losing your memories.
We all sit down and eat breakfast, the mood somber.
I spend the whole day with them, going on a drive around the town so that Alan can see all the things. We stop into the bakery, and he gets one of my mini apple pies, which he declares to be better than any pie he’s ever had. Trudy seems to get offended because the burnt sugar pie recipe is something from her family, but then she winks at me, and I know she’s just teasing him. They have such a sweet relationship. They are constantly touching and teasing each other. They radiate love and affection. It’s exactly the kind of marriage I want one of these days.
We eat dinner at the diner, and Alan seems to regain himself at the familiar surroundings… except for one thing… he still thinks I’m married to Amos.
Because of Alan’s confusion, Amos talks me into staying the night. He doesn’t want to make things worse, and I can’t argue with his logic.
“I can’t believe you’re just letting him believe we are married!” I whisper-shout when we are safely behind closed doors and out of earshot of his parents. “Seriously, Amos. That’s… it’s… crazy!”
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, taking me in his arms. “I just… My dad…”
He looks and sounds so sad any anger I had melts away, and I hug him tight. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not a hardship being fake married. You’re right that it means I can stay here without your parents thinking I’m a hussy.”
He chuckles. “Hussy…”
I slap his chest. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m your wife. You’re supposed to be nice to me.”
“Sorry, wifey. Forgive me?”
My heart skips a beat then beats out of control at hearing Amos call me his wife. Okay, I am totally screwed. This is fake, I remind myself. Fake. We aren’t married, heck we aren’t even engaged. We’re dating.
“How can I stay mad at you, hubby?” I ask, tilting my head back for a kiss.
6 Amos
With a growl, I lean down and kiss my pretend wife. Though thinking the word pretend feels wrong. I want to be her husband in truth, which is something that smacked me in the face when my dad mentioned it. The caveman inside me wanted nothing more than to beat his chest and drag Margo off to the nearest courthouse to make it real.
I fist her wild curls in my hand and deepen the kiss. Completely owning her lips, her tongue, all of her. She groans when I tighten my fist in her hair. My girl likes it a little rough, something that I’m more than happy to oblige.
“Amos,” she breathes between kisses, “please. I need you.”
I nip her chin then neck, kissing away the sting. “And you’ll have me soon.”
“Now,” she whimpers, threading her hands in my hair as I kiss down her neck to the top of her shirt. I pull the shirt over her head and toss it to the floor. I take a second to admire her pretty blue bra, knowing she picked it with me in mind makes my cock even harder. Then I strip her of it too. Her dusky pink nipples are diamond points begging for my mouth. It would be a sin to ignore them, so my mouth wraps around the first one, then the other. I flick
